Free Custody by Manju Kapur Page A

no guarantee, Papa, you know that. What is the point?’
    ‘The point is your happiness.’
    ‘Which is doubtful in this case. And why should you lose everything you have saved? No, if they really want to try, they should pay themselves.’
    ‘They have paid. Now maybe it is our turn?’
    ‘We didn’t explore every option. We didn’t go in for frozen embryos. That would have made it easier the second time round.’
    ‘Why didn’t you?’
    Because the mother-in-law hadn’t wanted to waste endless time and money trying, because the doctor might have told her that repeated attempts don’t increase the chances of success, each try remains at fifty-fifty.
    Had there been something wrong with SK, they would have moved heaven and earth to get a son’s defect corrected. In an ideal world, the same resources would have been put at the disposal of a daughter-in-law. But this was not an ideal world.
    It didn’t take long for the loving atmosphere around Ishita to grow so thin that it became hard for her to breathe. Was it possible for them all to change towards her, SK, Chandrakanta and Tarakanta? Hadn’t they valued her for herself?
    Of course they had, replied the mother-in-law when Ishita’s pent-up heart burst with wounded feelings in front of the most powerful member of the household. They were simple, warm and affectionate.
    Unfortunately Ishita knew that was true.
    ‘For us the girl’s qualities were everything. You know we asked for no dowry?’
    A small nod directed towards the floor.
    ‘For us money is not as important as family. But beta, it is essential that Suryakanta have a child. As the only son, he has to make sure that the bloodline of his forefathers continues. And now’ – she hesitated slightly – ‘I need to talk to your mother.’
    Ishita sat as though a mountain of stones were pressing upon her.
    ‘I will visit her tomorrow. I am sure something can be worked out. You are a sensible girl.’
    ‘Yes, Mummy.’
    In the night she asked Suryakanta, ‘Why does Mummy want to talk to my mother?’
    He merely grunted and she was too disheartened to insist on an answer, sure that it would make her even more miserable. Might as well live in the dark a bit longer. She would know soon enough.
    Her mother phoned her as soon as her mother-in-law left. ‘They want a divorce.’
    ‘He also?’
    ‘She says he also.’
    ‘Then I should come home?’
    ‘Don’t be silly. They are not getting rid of us so easily.’
    ‘What do you mean? Have you found a new fertility cure?’
    The bravado in her daughter’s voice broke the mother’s heart. She tried to say a few encouraging words, which Ishita heard impatiently before putting the phone down.
    Mrs Rajora wandered onto her tiny veranda. Discussion with her husband was useless: no matter how justified her anxiety, he accused her of needless worrying. It was his way of protecting himself, she thought.
    Now she sat alone, staring at the many children playing in the square below, assailed by their rising voices, their excitement, their quarrels, their play.
    The bell rang. She got up, half ready with her social face. She who loved company had not exchanged a word with anyone for weeks now. But neither Mrs Rajora nor the co-operative housing society was designed for solitude. It was Mrs Kaushik at the door demanding tea, determined to find out what the matter was.
    All this was not to be resisted. The end result was that an appointment was made for Ishita and her mother to go and see Leela Kaushik’s astrologer. ‘See this jade – he got me this stone – I wear it because my mercury is too strong. Now I am not taking tension.’
    ‘Is there something for infertility?’
    ‘Of course. He will suggest something, he is very, very good, not at all money-minded.’
    Next week Mrs Rajora dragged her daughter to the astrologer. There is a child in her hand, he said, after turning her palm over several times, scrutinising it carefully by the light of a